


les lendemains qui m'appallent

by LtTanyaBoone



Series: nous nous retrouverons pour apprendre à voler [2]
Category: Cardinal (TV 2017)
Genre: F/M, Future Fic, Post-Season/Series 02
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-20
Updated: 2018-04-20
Packaged: 2019-04-25 10:20:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 20,799
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14376732
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LtTanyaBoone/pseuds/LtTanyaBoone
Summary: Lise and John, together. *sequel to 'quelqu'un m'entend', takes place well after the S2 finale*"Lise lets out a soft sigh and closes her eyes. Beneath her hand, she can feel John's heart beating, thumping in his chest."Tired?" he asks, his voice barely audible."Hm," she hums. Keeps her eyes closed. "Not really," she allows. "Just, content.""Ah," he replies. She feels his hand stroke down her back and then up again."





	les lendemains qui m'appallent

She likes his house.

It's a bit of a surprise, Lise finds. The space is still filled with mementos. Still has Catherine Cardinal's traces all over the place. From the way the kitchen is arranged, to the music collection, to the dark room in the basement.

Yet when she's given the choice, Lise much prefers to spend her free time with John at his place.

Maybe because her own house reminds her of a relationship that went up in smoke in such a spectacular way. No, that's not really true. It didn't just go up in smoke. She'd been the one to take a blowtorch to it. Self-sabotage has always been part of her, but that time, she really went one step too far.

It should be weird. She should be feeling bad, about encroaching on another woman's territory. About sleeping in the bed that used to be shared by someone else.

She doesn't. Not really.

Okay, the first time she stayed over, it was, awkward. There was still a bottle of Catherine's perfume in the bathroom. Her earrings still sat on the counter, and there'd still been her toothbrush in the cabinet. That had made her feel a bit, strange. Made her question what she was doing, here.

But then again, she doesn't want to erase those traces. Doesn't have the overbearing urge to scrub every inch of this place, to make sure that Catherine is gone. She used to be part of John's life for twenty years, and Lise understands that, no matter how hard she might try, there is no removing the traces she's left, on him.

And she doesn't want to. She likes John, the way he is, and he is that way, partly, because of Catherine.

"You get lost in there?"

She blinks and looks up at him, standing in the doorway to his bathroom. John leans against the doorjamb, watching her intently. His eyes flicker to the bottle in her hands. Cloud, for a moment, as his face grows soft.

"I'm sorry," she apologizes and sets the perfume back down. In the spot it was, front row.

"Should get rid of that," he says and takes a step. Before she knows what she's doing, she's gotten between him and the counter. John looks down at her, an eyebrow raised in mute surprise. She swallows.

"Don't," she mutters. "Not on my accord, at least," she adds when his eyes widen slightly. Shifts and reaches up to touch her hands to his neck. Tilts her head slightly to the side. "It doesn't bother me," she tells him.

John shifts. His shoulders move and she withdraws her hands. Watches, as his eyes dart to the bottle, then her face again. He searches her eyes, his own soft, almost sad.

"Really?"

"Really," she nods. Wraps her arms around his waist and steps a little closer. "I know how much she meant to you. That you loved her, very much. It's okay."

His brows dip, then. Crease as he looks down at her.

"You don't have Josh's stuff lying around," he points out at her. And Lise has to bite her lip, to keep from laughing. Instead, she shakes her head.

"Different story," she mutters. Hesitates. "Would you feel better, about this, if it were the case?"

John swallows, and she watches his Adam's apple bop.

"No," he shakes his head, finally.

"Good," Lise nods. "Because I honestly wouldn't have known where to get a bottle of his aftershave," she deadpans.

His lips quirk into a smile, then, and he leans down, to kiss her forehead. It makes her close her eyes, and let out a content sigh.

 

* * *

 

"You coming over?"

It's become a daily question. Once their shift is over, John will ask if she wants to come to his place. They'll have dinner together, watch a movie, go to bed. It's their evening routine.

"No," she finally says and shakes her head. His head whips around and he stares at her openly. It almost makes her flinch. Makes her want to draw up her shoulders and pull back her head a little. Like turtles do, receding into their shells.

"What do you mean, no?" he asks, and searches her face.

Maybe she should have had this conversation earlier. And not on the steps leading up to the precinct.

"John," Lise sighs and shakes her head. Reaches out to touch his arm and gently pulls him over to the side, so other people can pass. Szelagy waves at her as he jogs up the steps, ready for work. She nods at him and hopes that he didn't notice the tension in them. The last thing she needs, is for the precinct to kick up the gossip about them. It's bad enough already. The lingering looks, the soft snickers when they catch John and her touching, however briefly.

"Did I do something?"

Her eyes widen and she recoils slightly. Swallows, then shakes her head no.

"No," she tells him, and takes a slow breath. "No, it's just..." she hesitates. Looks away, and draws a slow breath. "Kelly's over."

He tenses, then. She feels it radiate off of him in waves, the protective instinct, the urge to come to his daughter's defense. Lise wonders when he'll understand that he doesn't have to do that, not with her. It's not that she dislikes Kelly. She doesn't. She thinks she's a smart young woman, with a very bright future ahead of her.

A woman only fifteen years her junior.

A woman who still grieves her mother's death.

It's not like she's been, awful, to Lise. But the few interactions the two of them have had, Lise would have had to be blind and deaf to not realize how uncomfortable Kelly was. She'd basically been vibrating with the urge to get out of the situation. And John's place, that's her home. She's not going to make her feel bad, about being there.

"I'm fine," she says, finally. "You two have a nice evening. Pick up some pizza, on your way. She liked it last time."

"I want you there, too," he informs her and Lise blinks at his tone. The Detective voice he uses on the job, when he's about to give her an order, or say something he knows she won't like. "She's my daughter. I want you two, to have a relationship."

"I know," Lise nods. Allows a sigh to slip past her lips. "I just think it's too early, for that. For her."

His jaw tightens then, and she reaches up, to rest her hand against the underside of his jaw. Feels the muscle relax somewhat.

"At least come over for dinner," he asks, his voice soft again.

She's about to tell him no, that they'll do it another time, when Kelly's not stressed out by impending midterms. But the look in his eyes makes her pause. Like a kicked puppy, or a boy who's just got his favorite toy taken from him.

"Alright," she agrees with a soft sigh. "But only dinner," she adds when his face lights up immediately. "I'm not staying the night."

"Okay," John nods and she narrows her eyes at him slightly. Wonders, if maybe giving in was the wrong move. Perhaps he will think he can talk her into anything, now, if he just keeps trying hard enough.

Lise shakes her head and raises a hand, moving her fingers.

"Keys," she tells him and sees his face fall a little. He hates when she drives his car. "I drive, you call Kelly and ask her if she's okay, with me coming over. Ask her what she wants, on her pizza."

John searches her face for a moment, then lets out an exaggerated sigh.

"Fine," he agrees and hands his keys over.

"Merci," Lise smiles and pushes herself up onto her tiptoes, to kiss the corner of his mouth.

"No speakerphone," she calls over her shoulder as she starts heading for his car.

 

* * *

 

"Delorme?"

Lise sits up slowly and rubs a hand over her face, her cell phone pressed to her ear. Behind her, John stirs in his sleep. Raises his head and cracks open an eye to watch her.

"Lise?"

She swallows thickly at the voice on the other end and gets out of bed.

"Something wrong?" she asks as she makes her way down the hallway and the stairs. Turns on the light in John's kitchen. On the phone, she can hear Kelly give a shaky exhale.

"No," she finally says and Lise almost calls bullshit right then. She stops herself just in time. Closes her eyes, instead, and tries to think. If this were her, what would she want? What would she need.

"Do you want to talk to John?" she offers, keeping her voice low in an attempt to not have Cardinal hear her end of the conversation.

"No," Kelly replies, a soft sniffle coming from her. "I'm sorry. I know it's late."

Half past two isn't late. At least not in Delorme's book. It's way too bloody early, is what it is. But Lise still shakes her head as she puts on the kettle.

"Don't worry about that," she says. Hesitates, then, "Was there something you needed to talk about?"

She hears Kelly let out another shuddering breath.

"I tried calling Mom's phone. Just to hear her voice, on the machine. But it's disconnected."

Lise closes her eyes. Reaches up to pinch the bridge of her nose.

"I'm sorry," she apologizes softly. John had told her, about cancelling the phone. She'd thought it was good, that he was starting to let go. Not for a moment had she considered that perhaps Kelly had been using the number to help with her own grief.

"I'm sorry," the younger woman apologizes. "I don't know why I called you."

"It's fine," she shakes her head. Tries to think, of what she usually talks about, with Kelly. What topics aren't so awkward, between them. Not her father, definitely not. And not work, either, because that just reminds Kelly, of how the two of them ended up together. Kelly likes music. She likes art. And movies.

"You know," Lise starts and lifts the kettle from the stove to make herself some herbal tea. "I finally managed to watch that movie. The one you recommended."

"Huh?" Kelly mutters and Lise nods.

"Not really my taste," she admits as she crinkles her nose.

"It is pretty bad, isn't it?" John's daughter allows, a dramatic sigh leaving her.

"I guess the overall story idea isn't, but... I mean, all the rest? What were they thinking?" Lise goes on and takes the mug over to the couch area.

"Would you be terribly upset, if I told you there was a sequel?"

"No!" she exclaims as she sits down and pulls her legs up onto the couch. Hears Kelly let out a soft laugh at her shock.

It's almost two hours later, when she hangs up, having had Kelly repeatedly tell her that she'd be okay, now. The last one had been interrupted by yawn from the other woman. Lise looks down at her phone, the picture of John and Kelly fading to blackness as its light goes out.

The remainder of the tea in her mug has gone cold. She dumps it in the sink and then makes her way back upstairs, as quietly as she can.

John reaches for her when she's not even halfway in bed.

"Who's that?" he asks, his voice sleepy. Lise swallows, and then shakes her head.

"Nothing important," she lies. Figures that she will tell him in the morning. In, like, two hours, when their alarms go off. She settles down and turns onto her side. Watches him, as he relaxes back into sleep, his face smoothing out. Lise reaches out and gently traces her fingers over the lines on his forehead, before she presses a gentle kiss to his nose.

 

* * *

 

Lise lets out a soft sigh and closes her eyes. Underneath her hand, she can feel John's heart beating, thumping in his chest.

"Tired?" he asks, his voice barely audible.

"Hm," she hums. Keeps her eyes closed. "Not really," she allows. "Just, content."

"Ah," he replies. She feels his hand stroke down her back and then up again. Wiggles a little, against him.

They need a bigger couch, she thinks. Or at least he does. Hers is big enough for them to do this comfortably. Lie down on it and watch a movie, snuggled up next to each other. But his is too small for this. Like, Lise has one leg thrown over his and is lying on her side, and she's still getting squished against the back of his couch while John's legs are on the floor and his upper body barely has room on the thing.

She feels his hand slip beneath her shirt and allows another sigh to escape her at the contact of his hand on her skin. Feels it travel upwards, slowly, before it pauses for a moment. She turns her face into his chest then, her shoulders shaking with silent laughter at his obvious surprise.

"You couldn't tell?" she asks and sits up. Watches, as his eyes stray to her chest.

"I wasn't paying attention," he offers. Lise shakes her head at him and leans in to brush her lips over his.

"Right," she murmurs against the soft skin. Feels his hands on her hips and lets out a shriek of surprise when he lifts her.

"John!"

He sets her down almost immediately again. Only now her legs are on either side of him, she's hovering above him. There's the boyish grin, again, and Lise feels herself melt into a puddle of goo at the sight.

"We should move this elsewhere," he offers as he leans up a little to kiss her.

"Yes," Lise agrees. "Otherwise we will definitely end up on the floor."

He pokes her side then, and she lets out an indignant squeal before she grabs his hand and traps it between them. John lifts his eyebrows at her in silent question and she relaxes. Gives a slight shake of her head.

"I'm fine," she whispers and kisses him again, before she leans back. Crawls away from him and then stands from the couch. Feels his eyes on her, taking her in unabashedly.

"What?" she asks when she holds out his hand to him and he takes a moment to accept it and get up.

"For the record," he tells her, "I can tell."

And with that, he pulls her into a searing kiss that has her seeing stars.

 

* * *

 

"Hey."

Lise looks up at the softness of his voice. It's out of place, here, at work.

John shifts, a file in his hand.

"You got a moment?" he asks her.

"Uh, sure," she nods and saves the report she was working on, before she follows him to the conference room. He closes the door behind him, and Lise crosses her arms involuntarily. Takes a step back, to put some distance between them, in case someone else walks in.

Dyson was pretty clear, about not tolerating any, shenanigans, at work.

"You, forgot these."

John holds out the file to her, and Lise takes it with a frown. Hears the soft crinkle and opens it, her eyes widening slightly when her birth control pills stare up at her.

"Thanks," she breathes. Closes the file again and takes a breath, to brace herself, before she looks at him. He's searching her face, the look in his eyes guarded.

"Today's Tuesday," he points out. Lise feels her brows furrow.

"Yes?" she asks, unsure of where he's going, with that.

"Last one you took," John continues and gestures at the file in her hands. Makes her open it. The blister for Saturday is empty. Sunday, Monday and Tuesday are still holding their respective pills. Lise swallows, then shakes her head. Takes the packet and puts it into her pocket, deciding that the risk of it falling from the file is too big, once they step outside this room again.

"Lise-"

"Later," she shakes her head, her eyes pleading. "Please," she adds. "Not, here."

John shifts. His shoulders move as he draws a deep breath. She sees his jaw tighten, sees him fight with himself.

"Okay," he finally replies. There's an edge to his voice, now. Something in his eyes, when he looks at her. It's different, from the way he looked at her last night. Less trusting, more guarded.

Lise swallows and gives a minute shake of her head before she moves past him. Opens the door to the conference room and steps outside, the din of the precinct assaulting her ears immediately.

When she goes back to her report, she finds her hands shaking so badly she has to keep backspacing and correcting her typos.

 

* * *

 

She doesn't know what he was thinking. And honestly, Lise isn't sure if she particularly wants to know what it was.

There are two packets on the couch table, now. One is missing three pills. The other almost empty.

"I thought I'd left them in Toronto," she shrugs. "I've already made an appointment, to get them replaced."

John swallows thickly. Rubs a hand over his eyes and leans forward to rest his elbows on his knees.

"We haven't talked about, this," he says, his voice low. Lise finds herself frowning at him in confusion.

"I thought we just were," she shrugs. John shifts and looks at her, and she feels her heart skip a beat. Oh. That, this.

"We don't have to," she tells him, after a few beats. "Talk about it."

"Why not?" he asks, brows creasing. Lise lets out a sigh. Then gives a slight shake of her head.

"You and Josh-"

"Don't start with that," Lise shakes her head. Sets her legs down on the floor again and gets up from her couch. Moves, to the kitchen, to get herself something to drink. It's not so much that she's thirsty, but needs to move. Get some distance between them.

"You were trying to have child," he still says. Lise closes her eyes and whispers a curse before she sets her glass down again.

"He was," she corrects him. "Josh wanted a child. I didn't."

"Not back then."

"That wasn't a temporary thing," she shakes her head. Watches, as his eyes widen in surprise.

A sigh escapes her as she leans back against the sink. She hears him move. Hears him get up, hears his steps cross the space from the couch over to the kitchen. He pauses in the space between the counters, just out of arm's reach of her.

"You don't want children."

It's not a question any more. It's a statement. Lise looks up at him. He's still tense, but that guarded expression, it's slowly receding.

She swallows thickly and gives a shake of her head.

"Not particularly, no," she replies. Feels like she needs to explain further. "I mean, I like them. Just not in the sense of, oh, I want that, you know?" she tries. Frowns, at herself. It's not, not what she wanted to say. It's more difficult, more complex than that.

She likes children. She likes babies, she thinks they are cute, and wonderful, and the way they look at you make something inside her feel all gooey. They're soft, and their smiles can brighten the most miserable day.

But she also loves her job. Loves working at CIS, the challenges it brings. She enjoys puzzling out cases, and loves when all the evidence finally comes together.

She likes being where she is, right now. Likes her life, just the way it is. What she has, with John, that's, great. It's what she needs, right now, this closeness, between them. Her position and reputation at work, she likes that, too. Add a baby into the mix, and all that is going to change. She'd be off work for ages. Their relationship, it wouldn't ever be the same again.

"It's complicated," she sighs, finally.

John inclines his head briefly. Watches her, a somber expression on his face. It suddenly makes her realize that she hasn't asked him, what he wants. Actually has no idea, where he is, on all this. Of course, he does already have a child. An adult daughter. And honestly, Lise doesn't think he'd like to do that all over again, especially not at his age. But maybe she's been mistaken, she thinks, doubt niggling at her.

"Do you want a baby?" she asks, surprised by how high her voice is. How panicked she sounds.

John blinks, and there is the slightest tugging of his lips, the barest hint of a smile. He shakes his head, and Lise feels relief flood her.

"No," he replies. "I mean," he adds, brows furrowing, "I wouldn't be mad, if it, happened. But actively wanting it? No," he shakes his head.

She swallows. Nods, once, twice.

"Good," she breathes, her heart still hammering a little too fast in her chest. She feels like going for a run. Or going a couple of rounds with a sandsack. This isn't something she'd subject any sentient boxing partner to. But it's good, isn't it? That he doesn't want a child. That they're on the same page. Why does she still feel like she needs to pace.

John takes a step towards her, slowly.

"Can I hug you?"

She stares at him, dumbfounded. He's never done that, before. Never asked if he could touch her. At least not like this, not outside the bedroom.

"Since when do you ask?"

"Since you look like you're about to bolt," he replies, his voice strangely soft.

The spring in her stomach slowly releases, tension uncoiling as she relaxes. Nods, mutely, and takes a step towards him.

He wraps his arms around her carefully and Lise hugs him close. Buries her face into his chest and inhales and hopes that it will calm the remainder of the storm still raging inside of her. Feels his lips on her temple, feels them move soundlessly, and tightens her hold on him in reply.

 

* * *

 

"Hold still," she chastises him and presses the ice pack against his forehead. Cardinal flinches and leans back, causing her to smack his chest lightly.

"Do you want me to call an ambulance?"

"For what?" he argues and she levels a glare at him. He mutters something under his breath, about overbearing women, and she almost snaps at him. Instead, she grabs the back of his head and holds it in place as she continues to ice his forehead.

"Is that big enough?" Kelly asks and holds up a bandage. John's eyes widen at the sight of it.

"That's ridiculous, it's just a little cut-"

"Do you want me to get you a mirror?" Lise asks him sharply. He looks at her and opens his mouth again, but something makes him pause. She looks up and lets out a soft curse.

"Hold that," she tells him and grabs his hand to press it against the ice pack. Grabs a fresh pack of gauze and tears it open before she goes to replace the one that's been already soaked through.

"This is the last time you've stuck your head in any crawl space," she informs him. She's aiming for joking-but-resolute, but her voice comes out all squeaky and concerned and nothing like the tough detective she likes to imagine herself as.

And here, ladies and gentlemen, would be the reason why the two of them don't go out into the field together any more.

"Ouch," Kelly flinches when Lise pulls the ice pack away and lifts the soaked gauze from her father's forehead. She has much the same reaction, her stomach protesting at the sight of the gash.

"I know I was joking before," she tells him as she presses the fresh gauze against the cut, "but I'm starting to think that this needs stitches."

"Honestly?"

He does look a little sheepish, then. Lise swallows and risks another glance. Quickly presses the gauze back in place, and puts the ice back on it.

"Yeah," she nods. "I'm sorry," she apologizes, searching his face. "Do you think you can hold this, while I drive?"

She watches as his eyes dart from her to his daughter and back. Opens his mouth, and Lise decides she's done with his bravado.

"Kelly," she addresses the younger woman, "my keys are in my purse. Can you go and heat up the car?"

She watches her nod and then listens to her leave.

"We don't have to take her," John protests and Lise allows a sigh to escape her.

"Maybe not," she allows. "Maybe it will be fine. But I rather have her drive and make sure you are fine. Plus, I think if we leave her here, she'd just worry."

John lets out a soft sigh and inclines her head. He leans down a bit and she quickly takes a step away from him.

"What?" he asks, pouting, and Lise shakes her head.

"No offense, but you look like you've stumbled out of a horror movie. I'm not kissing you with blood all over your face," she tells him.

"Not even to make me feel better?" he tries, and she feels herself let out a laugh at his attempt at puppy eyes.

"No," she shakes her head. "Come on. The sooner you get your stitches and are cleaned up, the sooner you get to kiss me again."

"Talk about motivation," John grumbles and allows her to lead him outside to the car.

 

* * *

 

She's shaking.

Sometime, between kiss five and six, she's started trembling.

John makes a shushing sound and wraps his arms around her tightly. Lise swallows, a strangled sound escaping her throat as she twists her hands into his shirt. Her shoulders begin to shake and she feels hot tears run down her cheeks. Takes another moment to realize she's crying. Is falling apart.

He holds her against him. Pulls her into his lap and Lise curls in on herself. Hides her face against his chest as she cries and cries.

John's hand is running through her hair, up and down her back, before it tangles in her hair and stays there. She feels his lips against the crown of her head, feels them move soundlessly. Or maybe her sobs are just too loud, so loud they drown out everything else.

She's never been so scared in her entire life. Standing in that grocery store, her hands raised, the guy holding a gun aimed at her head. Her vest wouldn't have protected her then.

Never, ever, had she been so close to pissing herself in fear. Not even in the school, when they were looking for Katie Pine's murderer. Not even in the darkness of the woods, when they were chasing Ray Northwind.

At least it took her a few hours, before she started falling apart.

Lise doesn't know how long she cries. Eventually, the tears stop. The trembling ceases. John's one hand is on her hip, holding her close. The other is stroking her cheek.

She lets out a soft sniffle. Blinks, once, twice. Then leans back a little, to be able to look at his face.

There are tears in his eyes. He looks like he's been crying, himself.

She swallows thickly, the words he's been saying over and over again finally registering.

"Je t'aime," she whispers, her voice hoarse and cracked. It makes her flinch. Makes her lean forward again, to hide her face against his neck. John shudders, the hold he has on her tightening to painful, just for a moment.

"Don't let go," she breathes when he eases up a little. Feels him hesitate, then squeeze her hip. It makes her shudder against him, her arms wrapping around his neck as she holds on for dear life. "Don't let me go."

He wraps his arms around her back them. Pushes her in closer, his hold making it harder to breath. It feels strangely save, in a way. Like a police vest, pressing against her chest and back, protecting her from any stray bullets that might come flying her way.

 

* * *

 

"It's a racoon."

John looks at her, and his entire face screams "duh".

Lise shakes her head and pulls off her coat. She just got home, having stayed a little longer, to compare witness statements with Szelagy. She'd told John to go ahead, she'd meet him at her place. She hadn't thought that she'd find him in her house, holding a towel between his hands, a hissing animal wrapped inside it.

"Why did you bring a racoon into my house?" she asks him now, wondering if maybe, giving him her key had been a mistake.

"It was already inside," John shrugs. Shifts his hold on the towel a little, and Lise takes a step back, out of fear of the thing escaping his hold. "Broke into your basement."

"Oh merde," she mutters. Looks a little closer. Then, "Is that a baby?"

"It is pretty young," he nods.

"So the mother is still hiding out down there," Lise shakes her head. "Fantastic."

"I, uh, don't think you have to worry, about her," he says. Looks down at the fuzzy thing, and Lise wants to scream, because he is smiling down at the hissing beast.

"What did you do?" she asks and crosses her arms. John looks up at her. Blinks.

"Shovel to the head," he admits. Lise flinches and lets out another curse.

"Sorry," he apologizes. "I didn't mean to," he offers, weakly. "She, came at me."

She lets out a sigh and gives a slight shake of her head.

"Okay," she mutters. "You think he can survive outside?" she asks, inspecting the baby racoon. John looks at it again, and she thinks that maybe, that was a bad call. She wants him to part with that thing, not fall in love with it.

"Might not make it," he frowns. "He'd be better of with Wildlife Protection Services."

"I'll call," she sighs. Eyes him. "But you are going to explain to them what happened to his mother," she adds. She swears that she hears him cooing at the thing while she's looking for the number.

 

* * *

 

She kind of comes to regret the way she teases him, about the racoon, when there's a cat on his porch.

Madonna Road is pretty far out in the woods. Cats don't get lost out here, at least Lise doesn't think they do.

It's beautiful. Brown, lush fur, and alert, intelligent eyes. It just sits there, watching her intently as Lise gets out from the car and walks to the door. Watches her, too, once she's inside. She feels just a little bad, for leaving it out in the cold.

She lets it inside the third day. There have been sightings of bears, in the area, and she can't stomach the thought of it ending up as a snack.

When she was a child, they used to have a dog. She likes dogs well enough, but her job isn't one that allows her to keep a dog. The unpredictability of it, alongside having to be gone at a moments notice, it just isn't a good idea, combining it with an animal that needs regular walks and exercise.

She'd been thinking about getting a cat, back when she'd still been married to Josh. He'd said no. Argued that a kitten was a bad idea, given that they were trying for a baby. And he really hadn't been a fan of felines, honestly.

Cardinal sighs when he hears the meowing as he opens the door. He tells her he wants it gone by the end of the next day. Lise argues.

"It's a cat. Not a wild animal."

"A feral cat," Cardinal argues. Lise lifts an eyebrow and points at where the cat is currently lying in front of his fireplace, belly exposed, as it warms itself. "Very feral, indeed," she nods.

He sighs and shakes his head. Tells her he doesn't want a pet in his house. Lise swallows. Realizes that he is serious, about this. As much as he may have liked the little racoon, he has a zero tolerance policy on sharing his home with a furry beast.

Which turns out to be a problem, because their attempt at putting the cat back outside isn't one crowned by success.

Cardinal kicks it out when they leave for work that morning. When they get back, it is sitting on the porch, still. Oh yes, still, because the snow around it is pristine. No pawprints in it to be found.

He sighs and tries to shoo it away. Lise watches and crosses her arms. The cat walks over to them and rubs itself against her legs. She's almost bending down to pick it up, when she sees his face, and stops herself. Moves past them and steps inside the house.

The next morning, when John opens the door, he's greeted by an indignant meow and a blur of fur moving past him. The cat plants itself in front of the fireplace again and stares at them, indignant.

She leaves him to get rid of it. He's half an hour late for work, that day. When she opens her mouth as he arrives, he gives her a death glare, and presses out "Not a word" between his teeth. She keeps her mouth shut then.

The cat's not there when they get home that evening. He clearly thinks it's a victory and kisses her on the tip of her nose, causing Lise to let out a soft chuckle.

And then she laughs until her sides hurt, when she finds the cat sitting on the bedroom windowsill, glaring inside. All shooing and hissing at it doesn't even get it to flinch. As Cardinal flaps his arms, the cat merely looks at Lise, as if asking her if he is for real. She shakes her head in amusement and leaves him to it.

An hour later, the cat comes trotting down the stairs, a purr escaping it as it jumps up onto the kitchen counter.

"Oh no," Cardinal shakes his head. Makes to grab at her, but the cat bares her teeth with a warning hiss. "You can't stay here!"

"You do realize," Lise chimes in, "that you are arguing with a cat."

He gives her a look, then, that makes her wish the ground would swallow her, if just for a moment, before his gaze softens again.

"Get her out of here," he asks her and points at the animal. Lise sighs, and wonders if she might argue again. But he seems so set on not having the animal around, that she figures it wouldn't do any good.

"Come on," she declares and approaches the cat. It looks at her wearily, but allows itself to be picked up. She puts it outside, but as soon as its paws touch the ground, it turns around and runs right back inside. By attempt number four, Lise declares the whole thing ridiculous, and gives up.

They have dinner at the table, the cat watching them from its place at the fire.

The next morning, she's greeted with incessant meowing. It's only then that Lise realizes they haven't been feeding the cat anything. The kitchen's still clean, it doesn't look like it went through the trash, looking for food.

She decides to try and see if it will finally get it and dumps it outside again. It glares at her when she does it, but this time, Lise manages to close the door quickly enough. She figures that hunger will make it go hunting for food soon enough, and then it'll have been the end of that.

She doesn't take into account how annoying incessant meowing can be. While John and her have breakfast, the cat yowls outside the door, and it keeps making her flinch.

That day, they steal away through the back door, the cat still camping out on the porch. When they come back, there's the remains of two, maybe three mice on the porch. The cat has a decidedly smug look about itself when John lets out a loud string of curses.

The whole thing repeats itself, for another six days. On the seventh, Cardinal steers the grocery cart down the pet aisle while they are out buying food. He grabs some kibble and two cans of wet food. Drops them into the cart, alongside a small bag of cat litter.

"Not a word," he raises a finger when Lise opens her mouth. She quickly closes it again and presses a hand over her lips, to hide her smile.

He insists on getting it checked by a vet. To make sure it doesn't carry anything dangerous, or has an owner already.

Much to Lise's surprise, the cat is actually pretty calm, about the whole ordeal. She does hiss and tries to swipe at the vet and the nurse, but that is about it. It's not chipped and doesn't have a collar. And aside from being a bit on the thin side, she's healthy. The vet thinks she's a Somali Brown. Definitely an adult, though she does seem on the younger side. There are no obvious injuries. She has two scars, though both are hidden by her fur. One of her left front leg, something that looks like it may have been a deep cut. And one on the right side of her back, which the vet frowns at, and says looks like an old bite wound. He asks Lise if she wants to keep the cat, or if she would rather leave it with them and they will get her to the pound. She immediately shakes her head and tells him that the cat will be leaving with her. Just the thought of sending her to the pound makes her feel horrible.

She texts John the results from her car. The cat is hissing in her carrier, pawing at the latch. Lise thinks she's doing it on purpose. The way she seemingly only meows when she's out to annoy them. Or trick them into giving her more food.

He calls her and tells her to pick up decent cat food on her way back. And an actual litter box, as well. Lise wants to tell him that they need more than just that. She needs a decent food and water dish, and toys, and a bed, but he sounds so annoyed, she decides not to push her luck.

And then, when she gets home, she finds a cat tree sitting in the window. A plush rug in front of the fireplace. A water dish and food bowl in the kitchen.

"It's not sleeping in the bedroom," Cardinal tells her when she hugs him and pulls him down for a kiss.

"Okay," she nods, and wonders already how long it will take the cat meowing and pawing at the door before he'll give in.

Turns out, three hours is how long it takes to whittle down his patience.

As Moose curls up at the foot of the bed, Lise could swear she hears her purr.

 

* * *

 

A scream tears from her throat and her knees buckle as Lise curls up in pain. She hits the ground, hard, rolling onto her side, arms pressed into her stomach as she draws her knees up in an effort to protect herself.

"Delorme, ey," Szelagy yells and she feels his hand give her a light slap. She's barely able to breathe, it hurts so badly. Lise gasps and feels tears spill from her cheeks, feels humiliation rise inside of her.

Dimly, she registers the sound of the fight continuing. There's shuffling, someone else hits the floor. The sound of handcuffs.

"You're gonna be okay," Szelagy tells her, and she almost laughs then, but damn, this hurts too much. She really isn't a baby, but this feels almost as bad as getting shot in the vest. Scratch that, it does feel worse, Lise thinks when she tries to take a deep breath to calm down.

"Need some help, here!" Szelagy calls out. She doesn't even think to protest that. Who would have thought that having someone kick you in the gut could hurt so badly?

By the time the paramedics are looking at her, she's able to sit upright again, even if a little hunched over. God, her stomach hurts. She grimaces, but still tries to talk them out of taking her to the hospital. All she needs is some ice, or maybe a hot water bottle, and rest. Preferably curled up into a ball, because this whole sitting business, that's just, yeah, not fun.

"I'll come with you," Szelagy offers, and Lise panics, then. Because, as much as she likes the guy, he is, well, a guy.

"No, you don't," Dyson shakes her head at him. "I'll go," she tells Lise, and she feels herself relax a little at that. It's still bad, Dyson, she's her DS, but it's better than having one of the guys come along. Aside from John, perhaps, but he's down in Toronto, observing an autopsy, so no chance of calling him and asking him to come.

"I can walk," she shakes her head when the paramedics want to put her on a stretcher. They give her a look and Lise looks at Dyson, her eyes pleading. Please, do not let them wheel me out of here, she thinks. Her DS sighs and gives a nod, and reaches around her carefully to help her up. Every single step feels like someone lighting a firecracker in her belly, but she will be damned if she lets someone carry her when she's conscious.

By the time they are at the hospital and the doctor cuts off her shirt, her belly has turned a lovely shade of purple. Lise gasps at the sight and lets her head fall back against the headrest of the gurney.

"I need to use the bathroom," she mutters.

"Yeah, not right now," the doctor shakes his head. Looks at her, as Lise grimaces, her arm curling around her abdomen protectively. "Need a bedpan?" he offers and Lise thinks she can hold it in, for a few more moments. She doesn't need that kind of humiliation, she thinks.

"You realize we're gonna have to make sure you're not bleeding from your colon, right?" the doctor offers, his voice softer, and Lise lets a groan escape her when she realizes what he means. Marvelous.

"Okay," she agrees. "Bedpan it is," she allows. One of the nurses has draped a gown over her, and another starts on cutting off her pants. Those were new. New-ish, anyway. And they weren't exactly cheap, either.

"Doctor."

She registers the alarm in the woman's voice.

"Left side," the doctor calls and she feels herself be turned onto her side. Instinctively, her legs curl up.

"Liter of O negative," he orders and Lise feels him squeeze her arm. "Eyes open, Detective," he calls out and she frowns, but does it anyway.

"Any chance you might be pregnant?" he asks and Lise opens her mouth to tell him no, but only manages a pained gasp when she feels as if her insides are being squeezed by a vice. After that, it's only blissful nothingness.

 

* * *

 

Moose likes to curl up in her lap, when she's reading. She usually likes it, likes the warmth and the soft pressure of the cat's weight on her.

Right now, Lise cannot stand it, however.

The cat keeps following her around, looking up at her with mild concern. Not the glaring she used to do, back when they were still trying to get rid of her. And not the smug expression she wears, whenever she manages to bully John into feeding her extra treats just so she will shut up. Or play with her when he'd been planning on doing something else entirely.

She's been diligent, about taking her pill. There's not a single day she's missed, Lise knows, because she would have seen the pill still in its blister.

Plus, John and her, they use extra protection, at least sometimes. Other times they get carried away, and then Lise always figured it wasn't important. She's on the pill, they're in an exclusive relationship, both of them healthy and clean. So really, what was the worst that could happen?

Sometimes, she wonders if she should have known. Should have somehow been able to tell. But there'd been nothing. No missing period, no nausea, no sensitivity to smells, nothing Lise can think of that would scream 'pregnancy'. She'd been tired, yes, but so had everyone else on CIS. It had been a rough month with little breaks and uninterrupted sleep, and she'd just thought it was the job.

The bruising is almost gone completely. She's still a little sore, just below her ribcage. But she'd woken up this morning, lying on her stomach, for the first time in weeks, and it hadn't hurt like hell. Good things, right?

Lise lets out a sigh and turns onto her side on the couch when Moose come close. The cat leaps up on the table and watches her, a curious expression on its face. It walks over, rubs up against her. Lays down in front of Lise's stomach and starts to purr.

"Jerk," she mutters, but still reaches out to scratch her behind her ears.

She wonders, if the cat had been able to tell. If maybe that had been why she'd been cuddling with her in the first place.

Lise shakes her head. They've had Moose for almost half a year, now. The cat's been doing that since the beginning. Lise had only been five weeks pregnant, when-

She quickly shakes her head again. She hates it. Hates that she's like, this. Easy to rattle. Easy to provoke. Easy to cry.

The other night, she'd burst into tears, just because John had wrapped his arm around her from behind, and his hand had settled a little too low on her stomach. It's not his fault, and she hates that she reacted that way. It just, it had hit her, so unexpectedly, like a freight train.

The most ridiculous thing is that Lise thinks, if she'd known, then she's pretty sure this pregnancy wouldn't have resulted in a baby, anyway. But then that would have been her choice. Her decision. Hers, and John's. She wouldn't have made it without talking to him, first. But still, Lise thinks, she probably wouldn't have had the baby. So it shouldn't matter, how it happened.

But it does. It does, and it hurts, and it makes her curl up at night and stare at the wall and try not to cry, because she's been doing that way too much, and she'll only end up waking John.

She needs to talk to him, Lise thinks. It feels like it would be better, if she slept at her own place, for the time being. If they didn't, share a bed. It's just, it's, too much. She feels like she's suffocating, and something, something has to change. Before she ends up drowning in, this. This mess of emotions she's not sure how to find a way out of.

 

* * *

 

 

"Are you, fighting?"

Lise blinks slowly.

"What?" she asks.

On the other side of the table, Kelly shrugs.

"I know it's none of my business," she tells her. Pauses, for a moment. Then, "But the two of you seem... Weird."

Lise allows a sigh to escape her. Shifts, in her chair, and then raises her mug of tea to her lips. It's good, good tea. Kelly's birthday present, for her. She hadn't expected the younger woman to get her anything, much less actually show up. Lise suspects that maybe, John had something to do with that. That he might have asked her, to come out to Algonquin Bay, for the weekend of Lise's birthday.

"We're not fighting," she finally replies.

"But you're not not fighting, either?" Kelly offers and Lise searches her face, for a moment. Thinks that for her age, the other woman is pretty damn observant.

"I know Dad can be, weird," she tells her. It makes Lise blink, the word. Kelly usually calls him John, when they're talking. As if referencing the nature of their relationship might spook Lise. It doesn't. As she's already told John, she knows his past. Knows he had a loving wife, before her. Knows he has a pretty awesome daughter, too. The only thing that might 'spook' her, would be if Kelly started calling her Mom, and Lise is pretty sure that that's never going to happen.

"Really?" Lise laughs. "I had no idea. Tell me more," she adds with a waggle of her eyebrows. Instead of laughing with her, Kelly remains serious. Gives her a look that makes the smile fade from Lise's face, the humor going out of her. "It's not him," she tells her. "I l- like, him. A lot."

"Please," Kelly rolls her eyes. "You know he tells me he loves you. I'm not going to, throw up, or something."

"That wasn't why I..." Lise shakes her head. Draws a shuddering breath, and says, "I love your father."

There, she's said it. The world's still turning, Earth still rotating on its axis. No explosion imminent.

Kelly does swallow at the words. Lise has never said it, before, in front of her. She prefers telling John she loves him in French. It feels like it has more meaning, when she says it in the language she grew up with, the one she figured out her emotions in. She does tell him in English, at times, often in response to his own declarations. But if she's the one saying it, then it's almost always French she uses.

"Okay," Kelly nods. Looks down into her own mug of tea, her brows creasing. "Then what's going on with you guys?"

Lise lets out a soft sigh. She has a pretty good idea what's going on. Sexual frustration, combined with an emotional distance between them. It makes their interactions a bit, weird. Around others.

"Stuff," Lise shrugs.

"Stuff," Kelly echoes, and this time, Lise rolls her eyes.

"Please don't get me wrong," she starts and touches Kelly's hand for a moment before she withdraws. "But this is not a conversation I want to have, with you."

"Oh," the younger woman mutters. Looks away, her jaw working.

"He is your father," Lise reminds her. "As much as we can talk about your relationships and gossip about boys, or girls, or whatever, that's a line I'm not crossing. I'm not going to put you in a position of listening to me complain about your dad."

"How do you know he doesn't complain to me about you?"

"I don't," Lise shrugs. "But that's different," she adds. "I am not your mother, you don't have an inherent loyalty to me and would feel like you're betraying my trust by listening to what he says, about me."

"You sound like a shrink," Kelly rolls her eyes.

"Perhaps," Lise allows. Frowns into her drink. Then decides to hell with it. "My parents used to do that. Complain about each other, to their children. It wasn't a fun experience."

Kelly blinks at her, her eyes wide.

"You've never talked about your family, before," she mutters. "Not to me, at least."

Lise shrugs.

"There's not much to talk about," she tells her. "Right now, I'm the black sheep. I threw my college education away to become a cop, I switched from Financial to Homicide and left my well-earned name behind in that department. I got divorced, I slept with a hooker, my sex life was all over the papers. And now I'm sleeping with a man whose wife-" she cuts herself off then, when she realizes that she gets close to speaking ill of Catherine. "Not the kind of story you want to tell during family gatherings."

"Whose wife, what?" Kelly asks, her voice level. "Was a lunatic?"

"I am not thinking that way," Lise shakes her head. "And you know it."

The younger woman lets out a scoff. Looks away again, her jaw working.

"You two are just..." she mutters with a sharp shake of her head. "You ever get tired, of being so, patient?" she asks, nearly spitting out the words.

She blinks. Does a double take.

"Patient?"

"I mean, she's been dead, what?" Kelly asks, and gestures around the room. "Yet every time I come here, it's like stepping into a museum. Like some hallowed shrine, built and maintained for Catherine Cardinal, perfect wife and mother."

"We're not having this conversation," Lise shakes her head and stands. Gets her mug and walks over to the open kitchen to dump the tea and rinse it out before she sets it into the sink.

"Why? Why not?" Kelly presses and Lise grabs a towel to dry her hands. Slowly turns around and tries to remain calm.

"Because," she says, "John loved her. Still loves her. Misses her, too, I think. And I am not going to tell him how to deal with her death."

"Must be crappy," Kelly shakes her head. "Having to compete with a ghost. And finding yourself losing."

She's a second away from slapping her for that comment. Thankfully, Moose jumps up on the counter, then, and breaks Lise's eye contact with Kelly. She blinks at the cat and shifts. She takes the cat wordlessly and bounds up the stairs. It feels good, to slam the bedroom door closed behind her, though the feeling only lasts for as long as it takes her to walk over to the bed and sit down on it. When she does, Lise feels hot tears pooling in her eyes, and curls up around the cat as she begins to cry, Moose licking at her tears in confusion.

 

* * *

 

"Lise Delorme?"

"Yes?" she mutters and looks up with a slight frown. And recoils slightly at the sight of the bouquet in the hands of the delivery man. "I'm sorry?" she breathes.

"Sign here," he tells her as he sets down the flowers and then holds out the clipboard to her. Lise takes it and signs her name, heat creeping up her neck.

"Have a good day," the guy grins at her and leaves. Leaves her to blink and turn and stare at the flowers.

Everyone in the room is staring at her. Everyone, except John, who is fascinated by something on his computer screen.

Lise reaches out and plucks the card from the bouquet.

Dinner and a movie?

She finds herself smiling, then gives a small shake of her head. Gets up and walks around her desk, over to Cardinal's. Leans up behind him and wraps her arms around his neck. Kisses his cheek.

"Thank you," she whispers, keeping her voice low. He touches her hands, resting on his chest, then. Leans back into the touch a little. "I'd prefer staying in," she adds and kisses his cheek again. He lets out a hum of acknowledgement then. Moves his chair and she lets go of him as he turns around. It is awfully quiet, in the room.

"Anyone wanna get that?" John calls as a phone keeps ringing. It breaks through the trance and fascination of the others, and they quickly hurry to busy themselves in their work again.

Lise doesn't miss how McLeod has angled his chair to be able to keep watching them, though. And Szelagy is still holding onto the phone receiver, even though she can hear the faint dial tone.

"Coffee?" he asks her as John stands, and Lise nods.

"I'll help you," she declares, and walks with him to the break room. She needed to stretch her legs, anyway.

"I was thinking," John says as he grabs a mug, "we could go to that new Greek place. I don't know if they do take-out."

Lise wants to protest. But then she reconsiders. It's Valentine's Day. He's had to make a reservation, if he wants to take her out tonight. Even in a town like Algonquin Bay, people are going to celebrate by going out. And she wonders, why is she against doing the same?

"Okay," she nods. "We'll go out."

John casts a glance at her, from the corner of his eyes.

"Really?" he asks. "We don't have to," he adds. "If you'd rather stay in-"

"I have to go to my place," she tells him as she fills her mug with coffee. "I don't have any dresses at yours. When do you want to pick me up?"

"Table's for 7.30," John informs her. Lifts his mug to his lips, but he's too slow, and Lise can see that grin of his before he manages to conceal it.

The butterflies in her stomach stir softly at the realization.

 

* * *

 

 

"You look like you need one."

Szelagy looks up from the file on front of him. His face lights up at the sight of the mug in Lise's hand and he beams at her.

"Thank you," he smiles as she hands him the coffee. Pulls out a chair for herself at the conference room table.

She likes working with him. Between McLeod and Szelagy, she much prefers the younger man. He's, nice. Has at least some manners. Plus, there is the fact that he pretty much went and gave McLeod a black eye because he was being an asshole to Lise.

She watches as he sips his coffee, eyes closed. Watches as he sets his mug down and leans back in the chair, his eyes still closed. Lise shakes her head and grabs a file from the stack in the center of the table. This case is making her head spin. So many leads that end up going nowhere, so many statements that all seem to contradict themselves. She hasn't had a proper night's sleep in almost a month.

And she misses John. They see each other, outside of work, yes, but then Lise is always so tired that she doesn't want to do anything aside from falling into bed and sleep. And at work, they rarely work on any case together anymore. Lise doesn't disagree with Dyson, about keeping private things out of the office. But she isn't entirely sure she completely agrees with her DS, either.

"Can you look at these?" Szelagy asks, after a few moments. Holds out a stack of pictures.

"Sure," Lise nods and accepts them. Places them on the table, one by one, next to each other.

"I feel like I've been staring at them for so long, I'm going cross-eyed," he sighs. Rubs a hand over his eyes and shakes his head before he reaches for another file.

"You okay?" Lise asks, casting a glance at him from the corner of her eye.

"Yeah," Szelagy nods. "Just, rough night. Neighbor's discovered punk rock. Imma need some earplugs."

"Could be worse," she tilts her head. At his questioning look, she gives a shrug. "Could be Death Metal."

"Please don't give them any ideas," Szelagy groans, drawing a laugh from her.

"Hey, have you seen this?" she asks him after a few minutes. "This," she says and points at the picture, "is a CCTV sticker. But I haven't seen any record of surveillance footage anywhere in these files."

"'Cause there isn't," Szelagy shakes his head. "I called them. System was down for maintenance."

"Ah, tabarnak," Lise curses softly and slumps back down into her chair.

"That, too," Szelagy agrees with her.

By the time their shift is over, Lise is starting to think she will go cross-eyed, herself.

"You okay?" John asks when he holds out her coat. Lise rolls her shoulders and tilts her neck, reaching up to massage it.

"Yeah," she nods. "I guess I was just, sitting awkwardly."

She feels his hand on the small of her back as they walk out, John staying at her side as they make their way down the steps of the precinct.

"Your place?" she suggests, and sees him hesitate, much to her surprise. "What?" she asks when he stops on the sidewalk.

"I was thinking," he shifts. "If your neck's bothering you, I could give you a massage? And run you a hot bath?"

Lise feels her face break into a smile then, something inside her turning all soft and gooey at the look on his face.

"Thank you," she nods. "I'd love that."

"Then maybe, your place would be better. Bigger couch. Bigger tub, too. Backrub in the bath?"

"In that case," she grins and inclines her head. "We'll have to stop by your house, though."

John lifts an eyebrow as they both get into his car.

"Pick up Moose," she explains.

"Ah," he nods. Lise turns in the passenger seat and gives him a look. This may be the first time he's acknowledged the existence of the cat in their lives, without following it up with a long suffering sigh.

"You still have food, for her?" he asks as he pulls into traffic, and for a moment, Lise thinks she'll drop dead from shock.

"Yes," she replies. "But I think I need some more cat litter," she frowns, unsure if she used up the small pack she picked up for her own place already. They so rarely stay there, and when they do, it's usually only for a few hours, with no need to bring the cat along.

"Tell you what," he starts, "I drop you off at your place. You order us some of that strangely good food from the suspicious Mexican place, while I pick up the cat, and some stuff."

"Sounds good to me," Lise agrees. "Anything in particular that you want?"

"Nothing with the mystery meat," he shudders, prompting her to let out a laugh. The menu said it was beef, but even Lise had to admit that it had tasted nothing like that. Oh well, thirty-odd dishes on offer, there were still more than enough left, without the beef options.

 

* * *

 

Lise reaches for the glass of wine and takes a sip. Looks over the rim of it, to the other side of the table. Where John looks like he is trying to decide between sinking under the table, and slamming his hand on it.

It is kind of funny, Lise thinks. Not that he is struggling, she hates that. But she can also see her father shift uncomfortably in his seat every now and then, and that makes her think that yes, he deserves that.

Her parents used to love Josh. Went on and on about him, how great he was, how Lise was so lucky, to find a man so patient, with her and her antics. And then, when their marriage went up in flames, they blamed it on her. Granted, Lise knows she wasn't an innocent bystander, in that. She did a fair amount of torching, herself. But hearing her own parents tell her that she needed to fix it, make it up to Josh, that was just painful.

"So," her mother starts, and Lise braces herself. "Lise tells me you, have a daughter?"

Oh dear God, Lise thinks and reaches up to pinch the bridge of her nose.

"Yes," John nods. "Kelly," he adds, and clears his throat. "Her name, is Kelly," he says, seeming like he belatedly remembered his manners.

"A lovely name," Lise's mother smiles. She almost asks her, if she knows that it was Catherine's idea. The name.

"Is she in school?"

"Maman," Lise shakes her head and bites back a curse.

"It's fine," John tells her, but Lise thinks his eyes are pleading for help. "She's going, yes. In Toronto. We used to live there, a couple years back. It's her home, she wanted to stay and not move back to Algonquin Bay."

"That's not, bothering you?" Lise's father chimes in. "Leaving your little girl, at school, with you four hours away.

John's brows furrow then, and he gives her a confused look.

"On the danger of repeating myself," Lise sighs. "Kelly is not a little girl. She's an adult. She's twenty years old, she attends college in Toronto."

Sees how her father's eyes widen slightly. The moment he realizes the difference in age, between her and John.

"She's doing pretty well," John chimes in. "We talk on the phone a lot. But Toronto, it's her home. Forcing her to move to Algonquin Bay, it just, didn't seem right."

"Huh," her mother mutters. Silence falls again, and Lise puts her fork down, her appetite having left for the night. She pushes her plate away and crosses her arms. Taps her foot as she waits, for the other shoe to drop.

"Have you heard anything from Josh?"

Lise slowly turns and stares at her father. He did ask in French, but she's pretty sure that John understood that. And even if he hadn't, he would have caught Josh's name, for sure.

"I am not talking to you about that," she declares in English.

"Lise," her mother sighs, this long-suffering sigh of hers that she uses, whenever she wants to express how difficult dealing with Lise is, when she is being 'stubborn'.

"Maman," she replies, an edge to her voice. A warning, not to push, not to try and make a point. Because if she does, Lise will come at her. She's tired. She's so tired, of having her ex-husband held over her head time and again. Josh this, Josh that. Josh with the regular job, Josh with the endless amount of patience, Josh with his understanding. The only reason her parents loved him so much, was because he never pushed back. He let them walk all over him. The first time she'd brought Josh home, to dinner with her parents, they'd spoken French the whole time, and he'd just sat there and not said anything. Despite being unable to follow the conversation, he'd smiled and ate the food, and by the end of dinner, her parents had been in love with the charming young man who didn't do more than greet them and say goodbye.

"Did Lise tell you," John starts and picks up his whiskey, "that she has a new group of students lined up, for boxing class?"

Her father's knife and fork clatter to his plate loudly.

"Boxing?" he repeats, his voice carefully calm.

"Here we go," Lise mutters into her glass of wine.

"Lise, surely you cannot be serious," her mother presses, as if begging her to contradict what he's said. Lise looks at him. Looks at John, and the way he has ducked his head a little. Is looking at her, silent apology shining in his eyes.

"Actually," she hears herself say, "it's two classes," she continues, a grin tugging at her lips. "And I'm not the only teacher. I just help out, when I can. It's good, good work, good exercise."

"But, Lise... Your lovely face..."

"Are you serious, right now?" she asks, turning to her mother. Stares at her, as if she's lost her mind. "No one is going to beat my face in. Not at the boxing ring, anyway. But next time a suspect decides to take a swipe at me, I will make sure to ask him to aim low. Wouldn't want to upset my mother, if I show up with a black eye."

"That wasn't what I meant, and you know it," her mother shakes her head sadly. Lise pulls her bottom lip between her teeth and gives another shake of her head.

"Je suis fait," she declares and throws her napkin onto the table. The chair's legs scrape as she pushes it back and stands. Leaves the room without another word, and makes straight for the hallway and the door.

It feels good, to slam it close behind her. Lise walks down the sidewalk, steps out into the street. Pauses only when she's reached the middle of it. She crosses her arms and kicks her leg against the pavement, anger boiling inside of her.

This was a bad idea. She'd known it, she'd known that it would end like this. In another argument, another round in a fight that's been going on for years now.

She draws a deep breath, shivering slightly in the cold autumn air. Lifts her head and looks up at the sky, slowly darkening as the sun sets. There's been a bite to the evening air, these past few days. If Lise closes her eyes and inhales, she can almost smell winter coming. Winters in Algonquin Bay are beautiful. She loves the snow, loves the quiet, peaceful air of the woods. That is, before she grows sick of the sight of the slush on the streets, and of scraping the windshield of her car every morning. So around the middle of December.

She hears the door open again. Hears steps coming towards her, her instincts yelling out for her to turn around, to not leave her back turned towards a potential threat. But she's recognized John's steps, and what is more, she hasn't heard the door to her parents' house close again. If she turns now, she'll find her mother in the doorway, standing there with her cardigan and crossed arms, all judging.

If only you could be a little more soft, a little more friendly, a little more like other women.

"Sorry," John apologizes when he reaches her. He's put his jacket on, and is holding out hers, along with her purse. She'd left both, when she'd stormed from her parents' house. "Had to grab these."

"Thank you," she mutters and accepts them. Puts the coat on quickly, because she is starting to get cold, out here.

John watches her. His eyes on her face, he stares at her intently. Lise shifts, and meets his gaze wordlessly. Lets him look and waits, for him to speak. To chastise her, to tell her they should go back inside, apologize to her parents for leaving abruptly-

"Come on," he says and holds out his arm for her. "Let me take you home."

Lise blinks in surprise. Leans back a little, as she watches him. The tight ball of anger and resentment in her belly shrinks, just a little bit. Begins to unravel as she reaches out and takes his arm.

"Thank you," she whispers and lets him pull her along to his car. She doesn't look up to the house again, and doesn't fail to notice that neither does John.

 

* * *

 

A laugh bubbles up on her throat, and Lise's shoulders begin to shake as she starts to giggle.

She feels John move. Feels him lean back, feels his eyes on her. She shakes her head, her sides starting to hurt already from the intensity of her laugh.

"I'm fine," she tells him and clears her throat. Attempts to calm down. John is still watching her, still staring at her like she's lost her mind. Lise reaches out, touches her hand to his cheek. Strokes the back of it over it gently.

"Je t'aime," she whispers, sobering. He reaches out and takes her hand. Presses a soft kiss to the palm of it, before he holds it against his naked chest.

"I love you, too," he replies, voice deep. Lise lets out a soft sigh and leans up to brush her lips over his. Leans back, for a moment, before she kisses him again, this time running her tongue over his lips. John's mouth opens and he kisses back, and Lise breathes his name into his mouth.

His hand moves up her arm, down her naked back, beneath the blankets. Settles on her hip, for a moment. Heat pools low in the pit of her stomach and Lise moves to straddle him. Looks down at him and watches as his eyes roam over her face, then start traveling downwards.

"Need to get up," he mutters as his hands stroke over her sides. Lise closes her eyes, enjoying the sensation.

"Why?" she murmurs and leans in for another kiss.

"Nightstand's empty," John whispers against her lips.

She feels herself tense up at his words. John leans back. Searches her eyes, his own soft. She feels him stroke her back gently, the sexually charged air dissipating. His touch is soft, reassuring.

"I'm sorry," he mutters. "I shouldn't have assumed..." he trails off, and Lise lets a sigh escape her.

"No," she shakes her head and touches her forehead against his, for a moment. "It wasn't that," she whispers. "I do want, to make love."

She hadn't even thought about it, earlier. It's become a part of their routine, the way they are intimate with each other. Talking about it, before the first time after the miscarriage, that had been awkward. But beyond that, it had just been, natural. Lise thinks that it helped, that they used to do it anyway, most of the time.

John shifts, slowly. Rolls them over and she tightens her legs around his sides.

"But?" he prompts, gently. Lise frowns, searches for the right words.

"I don't know," she finally sighs. "I mean, would it be, so bad?" she asks, suddenly nervous. Feels herself flush as she looks down and worries at her bottom lip.

"Would what be so bad?" John presses. "Sex, without condom? Or getting pregnant again?" he insists when she doesn't answer.

Lise shakes her head and pushes her hands against his chest. He leans back and she scoots up, pulling the blanket with her. Pulls it across her chest, to cover herself, suddenly feeling way too exposed.

"Forget about it," she tells him.

"Lise."

"John," she repeats his name with the same inflection. He watches her, carefully. Swallows, thickly.

"I was sad, you know," he finally says. Lise blinks, confused.

"What?"

"About the ba-"

"Don't," she quickly interrupts him. Clenches her eyes shut, as her fingers curl into the blanket. "Don't call it, that."

"What am I supposed to call it?" he asks, sounding confused. She shakes her head at him and throws the blanket off. Gets out of bed and grabs her PJ top to put them on. The mood is shot, anyway, she might as well get dressed again.

"You can say miscarriage," she tells him with a shake of her head. "Or if you have to, call it a pregnancy. But not, not, that," she presses out. When she has her PJ bottoms on, she turns to face him again. And finds him watching her, a strange expression on his face.

"Why not, that?" he asks, his voice soft.

"Because," Lise shakes her head. Looks away and takes a harsh breath. "Because it hurts, too much. Okay? Are you happy now?" she asks him and reaches up to wipe a stubborn tear from the corner of her eye.

"What about the f-word?"

"Fuck?" she asks, frowning in confusion. John lets out a soft laugh at that, then shakes his head as he sobers.

"Fetus," he says, and Lise flinches.

"Technically," she points out, "it wasn't even that."

"Embryo, then," he insists. She's prepared for it, this time. It doesn't pack quite as much as a punch. A lot less, actually. Medical terms, they're, easier. Miscarriage is easiest, she finds. It's the clinical term, for what happened. Pregnancy, that's, different. She can tolerate it, but it's not what happened, it's what was taken away, what ended. But what John almost said, that's just, no. The b-word is absolutely off limits. Even in her own head, Lise never uses it, never allows herself to even think it.

"Is this funny, to you?" she asks him. Has to, really, because right now, it feels like he is purposefully being obtuse. Or, even worse, gets some sick satisfaction out of torturing her.

"No," John shakes his head resolutely. "No, I'm just... I'm trying to, understand," he offers weakly. "You don't talk about it."

"Why should I?" Lise asks. "Huh? What would be the good, in repeating the same thing over and over again? I didn't know I was pregnant, I got the shit kicked out of me, it resulted in a miscarriage. End of story."

She watches as he shakes his head. Rubs a hand over his face, suddenly seeming tired.

"How did we get here?" he asks, his voice soft. Lise opens her mouth, a retort ready on her tongue, but she manages to stop herself. Draws a slow breath and lets it out carefully through her nose again.

"I'm sorry," she apologizes softly. "But this isn't... I can't talk about this, right now."

"Any particular reason?"

She hesitates, then swallows thickly.

"You just made it sound like it's a time-thing. Like if I'd asked some other time, you would answer, but I'm starting to think-"

"Due date's next week," she erupts. "That's it. That's why I can't hear that word, that's why I don't want to have sex without protection, that's why I pushed my period back another week last month. I can't, I can't deal with this, not now, not this week, or next, or the one after. Because this, this is all I can think about, and you pushing me and shoving at me, it's making it all worse, and I don't, don't know, how to tell you that I can't, can't do this-" she stammers, through the tears that are starting to fall, but it hurts so much, and Lise can't breathe, can't keep talking, and finally breaks down crying.

She hears him move. Hears the rustling of the sheets as she wraps her arms around herself and tries to keep upright. John steps up to her and touches her shoulder, and God, she hates that she does it, but she turns her face towards him. Shoves it against his chest and feels herself go limp when his arms wrap around her, her sobs sounding in the bedroom, filling the space around them.

 

* * *

 

Moose is yowling.

Lise jerks from her dream, the cat's screaming filling her ears. She reaches for the light on the nightstand and turns it on. Pulls the drawer open to grab her gun.

Behind her, John is doing the same thing.

"Stay here," he whispers and Lise gives him a "Are you for real?" look that makes him roll his eyes.

He signals for her to move behind him and she does, thinking for a moment how bad it will be, if she's shot wearing an almost sheer nightie.

John opens the door to the bedroom and immediately steps through, pointing his gun down the hall. Lise follows, covering him. Her heart is in her throat. If she wasn't a cop, she'd be down the stairs already, looking for the screaming cat. John points downstairs silently and she nods. It's definitely coming from downstairs, she agrees with that.

At least she's still screaming, Lise thinks, and closes her eyes for a moment. Whoever's in the house hasn't killed the cat yet. Just hurt her, badly enough for her to scream like that.

They slowly make their way down the hallway, Lise's heart hammering in her chest as she keeps a hand on John's shoulder. She can't hear anything else, aside from their breathing, and the cat's screams.

Downstairs is clear. The door to the house is still locked, no signs of forced entry. Same with the back door. Kelly's bedroom is empty, so is the bathroom. The only place left to check is the basement.

Lise almost calls out when she sees the cat. She barely manages to keep herself from yelling her name in relief.

"Clear," John sighs and lowers his gun. Lise thrusts her own at him and runs over to the cat. Who's managed to wrap herself in a scarf, and then gotten that tangled on the banister.

"Stupid idiot," she mutters and lifts her up. "I think I need some scissors," she tells John. Who stares at the cat.

"John?" she calls his name, holding the upset feline up. She's no longer screaming bloody murder, but she's still more than a little upset. Lise can feel her vibrating with anger and fear in her arms.

"That's Catherine's," he whispers softly. Narrows his eyes at the cat. "Where'd you get that?" he asks as Lise looks down at the pet. He's right, she realizes. It's not one of hers, too colorful for that.

"No scissors, then," Lise mutters and bends down to begin untangling the mess the cat's gotten herself into. When she finally has the thing off the banister, Lise thinks she could have taken the scissors to it, anyway. Moose's claws have left long gashes in the fabric, tearing it in so many places that another cut wouldn't matter. She grabs the cat and returns to the first floor. Finds John on the couch, staring off into space.

"What are you doing?" he asks her, his brows furrowing. Lise hisses when Moose buries her claws in her arm and almost throws the cat from herself.

"Untangling her," she tells him. Walks over and puts the cat on the couch and tells her to hold still as she sets out to figure out how to get the rest of the fabric off. Preferably without strangling the animal, something that Lise is beginning to think is growing more and more likely.

John shakes his head and gets up. He disappears, briefly, and then returns. Before Lise can ask him where he went, he has Moose by the scruff of her neck, the cat hissing and spitting, and then falling, unceremoniously, to the floor. She shakes herself, the fabric of the scarf sliding off her. Trot away and jumps up on the kitchen counter before she meows, her version of 'Feed me, human servant'.

John's still holding the knife he used to cut through the fabric.

"I'm sorry," she apologizes. "I don't know where she got that from. I can check now, make sure she doesn't get into any more of Catherine's stuff-"

"Lise."

The way he says her name makes her look up at him in surprise. His voice is soft, holding a slightly amused edge.

"It's fine. Just a scarf."

"But," she protests, "it was-"

"Yeah, so?" he shrugs. "I put some of her stuff in a plastic bag, for donation. I just haven't gotten around to driving it to the shelter, yet. Probably the thing ripped, and Moose got into it. It's fine. It wasn't important."

"Oh," she breathes.

"Not enough to be worth strangling the cat for, anyway," he adds with a sigh. Glares in the direction of the pet, who is sitting there, her tail flicking in slight annoyance. Clearly, she is of the opinion that she deserves an extra feeding, after living through this ordeal.

"I'm going to kill you, one day," he mutters under his breath. But he walks over and scratches her under her chin, and then gets out the cat treats and lets Moose go to town on them. Lise watches the two with a shake of her head before she grabs their guns from the coffee table. Makes sure that the safety is on on both of them, before she goes over to him.

"Spoiled brat," she sighs and leans down to kiss the cat's head. Moose purrs softly and rubs herself into the contact.

 

* * *

 

"Coffee?"

"Yes, please," Lise calls and comes down the stairs, tying up her hair. "Are we still on for tonight?" she asks as John hands her the cup of coffee.

"Tonight?" he asks, frowning lightly.

"Retirement party for one of the constables, forgot the name," Lise reminds him. "They invited you, because... You went fishing together?"

"Rogers," John declares, his brows lifting as he remembers. "Yes, we're still on for that. I'll pick you up at the ring after seven."

"Exactly," Lise nods. Leans in for a quick kiss, then watches him drain his coffee and leave. She has an early interview, she'll start work there. It wouldn't make sense, to go to the precinct, open the door and then immediately have to leave again.

"Good morning," she greets Moose when the cat comes up to her, nearly managing to trip Lise as she sneaks between her legs. She bends down to stroke her and then decides that she can have some cereal, before she leaves. On her way to the table, she grabs her purse and takes it with her. Fishes out her birth control pills one-handed. And freezes.

There are no pills left in the packet.

Lise sets the bowl down hard, the spoon clanking around in it loudly. She flops down into one of the chairs at the table, a ragged breath leaving her.

She thought she'd have more time.

Sure, she'd realized she was running out. But Lise cannot even remember taking it yesterday, or the day before, or the day before that. If she had paid attention then, she might have talked to John. Asked him, if he still was on board, with this.

Okay, maybe she would have told him she'd changed her mind.

Lise leans back in her chair, staring at the empty packet.

"Shit," she breathes and reaches up to pull the tie back out of her hair. Shakes it out and then throws both the hairtie and the empty packet of her birth control pills onto the table.

Lise leans forward, resting her elbows on the table as she burrows her hands in her hair and takes a deep breath. Slowly lets it out, and then inhales again, deeply.

They talked about this. They had plenty of conversations about it. About protection, about using condoms, in addition to her birth control. It was her, who said she was alright, with dialing it back. That she'd be fine, if they stopped using condoms again. That it was getting ridiculous. Lise remembers saying that. They'd been about to have sex, in the shower, and then realized that there were no condoms in the bathroom at her house. She'd been tired, and frisky, but they'd talked about it again, in the morning, and she'd still thought that it would be okay. And had had the same opinion three days later, when John had asked her again, just to be sure.

Going off the pill, that had been her idea, as well. She'd thought about it, for three months, before bringing it up with him. It's not that she wants to have a baby, right now. But maybe someday. Someday, maybe, soon. Soon-ish, at least. And she knows that going off hormonal birth control, it might be months, before she has a fertile cycle.

Moose jumps on the table, and Lise jumps in surprise. The cat looks at her, tail flicking, before she approaches the pill packet, sniffing it.

"No," Lise shakes her head. "That's not for you to eat," she informs her. "Or play with," she adds, when Moose swats at it with her paw before sitting back with her head tilted in curiosity. Lise stands and walks over to the trash, tossing the empty packet. Pauses next to it. Takes a deep breath and closes her eyes for a moment.

She has another packet upstairs in the bathroom cabinet. Just in case, in case of, this. In case of her getting cold feet, of her changing her mind-

Lise shakes her head.

They aren't trying to get pregnant. John agreed that she'd monitor her cycle, that they'd use condoms, on her fertile days. It's not a hundred percent guarantee, but, what was it he'd said, all those months and months ago, when the topic had first cropped up between them? He wouldn't be mad, if it happened.

That's changed, Lise thinks. From 'not being mad', to 'probably being happy'. Probably isn't much to go on, not when they're talking about something as big as this. Something as life changing, as, well, creating life.

Her cell phone starts to vibrate on the table. Lise shakes her head and walks over, John's name and picture flashing on the screen.

"Yes," she answers, surprised by how out-of-breath she sounds.

"Can you check," he starts, "I think I forgot to close the bathroom window."

"Oh," Lise nods. "Yeah, sure, I'll check."

There's silence on the line.

"Anything wrong?" he asks, his voice softer now. Lise swallows. Already has her mouth open to tell him that everything's fine, she's fine. Then she closes it again. Swallows the words.

"I, went to take my pill," she replies. "Packet's finished."

John stays silent for a long moment. Lise strains, and thinks she hears a door close.

"Sorry," he apologizes. "Had to find some quiet."

"Okay," she mutters. Holds onto her phone as she closes her eyes.

"Are you okay?" he asks her, his voice gentle. "Because if you aren't, we don't have to do this."

Lise opens her eyes again. Holds them wide open, for a moment, in the hopes of stopping the tears. Jesus, she gets so emotional, about going off the pill, God help her in case she ever winds up pregnant.

"I'm fine," she tells him, tears still pricking at her eyes. "It's just... scary."

"We don't have to do it," he repeats.

"No," Lise shakes her head, calming down. "No, I, I think I, want to."

"You think?" he pushes and Lise lets out a soft chuckle.

"Yes," she tells him. "I change my mind, I can always go back on it," she adds. "And we'll use protection during the, important days, anyway, so it's not like it's a big deal."

"We can use protection any day you want to," John reminds her. "Listen, why don't we, postpone this? Give it another month?"

Lise finds herself frowning at her phone.

"Is that what you want?" she asks, surprised by the disappointment that's welling up inside of her.

"I want what you want."

"John," she sighs, a warning edge to her voice. "Are we on the same page, with this?" she presses. It's a bad time, to be having this conversation. They should have talked about it before this moment, should have confirmed their decision. Now she's home, and he's at work, and it's just, a big mess.

"I," he starts and pauses. "I'd like for us, to be ready to try," he says, just when Lise figures he's not going to say anything. She lets out a shuddering breath and nods, her eyes closing.

"Me, too," she whispers. "Je t'aime."

"I love you, too," he replies. "I'll see you later."

"Bye," she mutters and hangs up. Lets out another sniffle, and then goes to go back upstairs, in order to fix her makeup, before she leaves the house.

 

* * *

 

"Go ahead," Lise nods. "I need to talk to Dyson, for a moment."

Cardinal pauses as he grabs his gun and badge, ready to leave for the night. Looks at her, his eyes searching. She swallows and gives a minute shake of her head.

"You sure?" he presses, and Lise almost rolls her eyes at him.

"Yeah," she nods, instead. "Go ahead, I'll catch up with you."

"Alright," he nods finally and takes his coat, leaving her at her desk, for a moment.

Lise takes a slow breath, and lets it out carefully. Grabs a random file and then goes to talk to her DS. Her heart's in her throat. During all the conversations they had, about this, they never talked about how to explain this to their boss.

"Do you have a moment?" she asks as she knocks on Dyson's door. The woman looks up and nods, motioning for her to step inside. Lise does, and closes the door behind her. Sits down in the chair in front of the DS and places the file down.

"What's this?" the woman asks and takes it, and Lise blinks, slowly.

"Oh," she mutters and shakes her head. "That's just..." she trails off. "I didn't want to talk, about a case."

Dyson looks up, then, her dark eyes filled with surprise. Lowers the file back down as her eyes remain on Lise. She swallows, looks away. Tries to find her courage.

"I need you, to put me on administrative duty," she finally says. Stares at the table as she fidgets with a loose thread on her blouse. Damn, she'd like to have a cigarette, right now.

Dyson shifts in her chair. Leans back as she places her hands on her desk. Lise chances a glance at her, and sees her eyes dart down. It makes her shift uncomfortably.

"Are you-"

"I don't know," she shakes her head, cutting off the question. Draws a ragged breath. "There's a chance that I might, might be," she admits.

Watches as her DS swallows.

They've only really been trying, for two months. She doesn't think she is. Not yet. But there is a chance that she could be. She was supposed to start her period two days ago. It hasn't shown up yet, and Lise is starting to get nervous. Nervous enough that she knows she shouldn't be in the field. If she is out there and something happens... She'd never be able to forgive herself.

"Okay," Dyson nods, slowly. "I suggest getting clarity, on the matter."

Lise blinks at her, a brief flash of anger rising inside of her. Does she think she's stupid?

But then the soft expression in Dyson's eyes registers, and she bites back her comment.

"Of course," she nods. "Thank you, DS."

"Dismissed," Dyson nods and Lise gets up. Leaves her office, wondering if the other woman intentionally didn't congratulate her. Forces herself not to examine why the thought makes her feel sad.

 

* * *

 

She's pacing. Up and down the corridor, and then back again. Over and over again.

It's been hours. Well, two, anyway. Lise keeps looking at the clock on the wall, at how slowly the hand on its crawls along.

They should know something, by now. Shouldn't they?

John just sits there, with his head resting against the wall. She feels his eyes on her every couple of moments. Knows he's been watching her pace.

"Will you sit down?" he asks, after another fifteen minutes. Lise draws a shuddering breath, then shakes her head no.

"I don't think so," she mutters. Presses her arms across herself as she keeps walking. She knows she's driving people crazy, but she just can't help herself. Sitting down isn't working. She's tried. But even when she sat, and bounced her leg, it wasn't enough. Wasn't enough to stench this worry inside of her, to take care of her need of running away.

Two hours, forty-three minutes. Lise pauses. Puts her hands on her hips and takes a deep breath, before she decides to approach the counter. Again. For the third time, not counting when they came in.

"Excuse me," she mutters. The nurse looks up at her, and Lise sees the brief moment when she looks friendly and welcoming and reassuring. And then the greeting face disappears, when she realizes that it's just Lise again.

"I was wondering," she still pushes on, "if there were any news."

"No, I'm sorry," the nurse shakes her head and returns to her paperwork.

Lise shifts. Rests her hand on the counter.

"Could you check?" she pushes. Sees the woman's pen pause in her writing. Watches, as she slowly places it down, clearly trying to remain calm and accommodating.

"Miss," she begins, and looks up at Lise. Pauses, and does a double take.

In a human hospital, Lise would have slammed her badge down, and demanded answers. She would have lied, outright, to get information.

Apparently, here tears work the way a police badge does at the hospital.

"I'm sorry," the nurse apologizes and gets up from her chair. "I'll see if I can find out something, okay? Why don't you have a seat, Miss."

Lise inclines her head with a soft sniffle and steps away from the counter. She still can't make herself sit down. Is still fretting too much, is still too anxious. So she leans against the wall instead. Presses her back against it and inclines her head as she tries desperately to get herself back under control. She doesn't have to give the other people here any more of a show than she already has.

"Hey."

John's voice is soft and gentle as he stands. Comes to stand in front of her and touches her arm gently.

"She'll be fine," he says and Lise shakes her head.

"You don't know that," she protests. She wants to believe him. By God, she does, she wants to believe he's telling the truth. But she's so afraid, so scared, of it being a lie.

He only lets out a deep breath. Doesn't say anything any more, just stands there, his head bowed, and strokes his hands over her upper arms. Lise draws a shuddering breath and reaches out. Takes hold of his arm and closes her eyes. Hopes that it'll be enough, at least for a moment. She hates PDAs. They don't do this stuff in public, not when they may be mistaken for working cops, and Lise is very much aware of the badge still clipped to her belt, of the holster still on her hip. John took his off, but she hasn't had the mind to. Forgot, before walking in here, and now she's too scared to step out again. Anyways, she can't put her gun in the car, the risk of it getting stolen would be too high, and she doesn't have any deep pockets for her badge. She could give it to John, but that would leave her carrying a gun without a badge, and that's just, no.

"Family of," one of the staff calls out, "Muse Delorme."

Lise shudders and straightens as John steps away from her. Reaches up to wipe away the tears on her face.

"Moose," she corrects, wondering if maybe it's her accent, because the staffer gives her a confused look. "Like the animal," she adds.

"Ah," the young guy nods. "Follow me?" he prompts them and Lise falls into step behind him, her heart beating in her throat as she braces herself for the worst.

She'd been, off, for a lack of better word, for the past day, day and a half. Kind of listless, a bit slow. Lise had thought it was just the heat, that Moose was upset because she was feeling too warm. And then she'd barely touched her dinner, and Lise had decided that she'd take her to the vet, after work. Which had turned into another marathon session, and by the time John and her had managed to leave the precinct, it had started to get dark outside.

At home, they'd found Moose in a puddle of her own vomit. There's been other stains, all over the place, and the cat hadn't even lifted her head when Lise had dropped down beside her.

The memory makes the tears well up in her eyes again.

"Ah, you're the owners?" the vet that is sitting at a desk in what seems like a common room says. Looks up at them, and Lise swallows.

"That's right," John nods and Lise feels his hand against the small of her back. Flashes him a thankful look.

"Please, have a seat."

"I'd rather stand," she replies, her arms still crossed tightly over her chest. The man looks at her, and his face relaxes.

"Surgery was a success," he tells her and Lise blinks. Swallows, once, twice, her throat hurting. And then turns away as she presses a hand over her mouth to stifle a sob.

"It's okay," John whispers and she feels him wrap an arm around her. Turns and hides her face against his chest, sobs of relief coming from her. It's embarrassing, that she turns into this sobbing mess, over a goddamn cat. But it's, it's Moose. She comes home to her every night, and Moose meows and rubs herself against Lise's legs. She curls up on her when she reads, she purrs when she scratches her head and bumps it against Lise's when they sleep in too long on their days off and the cat gets hungry. She bullies them into playing by dropping toys at their feet and then, when they ignore her, continues to get aggressive about it, until it culminates in the cat trying to shove a toy in their faces when they lie down. She yowls when Cardinal so much as says the word 'bath' and her name in the same sentence, and Lise loves the way the cat acts like she hates him, when in truth, she keeps following him around begging for his attention when he ignores her for more than an hour.

"Here," the vet offers them a box of Kleenex, and Lise lets out a self-depreciating chuckle.

"I'm sorry," she apologizes, once she is no longer such a blubbering mess. Has managed to sit down and clean herself up, at least somewhat.

"Oh, it's fine," the man shakes his head and waves her off. "You're not the worst crying owner I've had. Once had to sedate a guy after telling him his pet parrot needed surgery."

Lise blinks and her eyes narrow, as she tries to tell if he's making fun of her. Or of parrot guy. Or maybe the two of them.

"Anyways," the vet sighs and looks down at his file. "Your cat. We actually managed to pull an impressive amount of stuff from her stomach," he frowns. "You keep insulation lying around?"

Cardinal frowns at that when Lise looks at him. He does the work, on the house. He knows where everything is.

"No," he shakes his head, finally. "No, it's locked away."

"Huh," the vet mutters. "I mean, don't get me wrong, the toy's kind of normal. We see that all the time, actually. But insulation is new."

"Could she have," Lise offers and clears her throat with a grimace, "gotten into Kelly's room?"

"I don't see how," he shakes his head. "I kept the door closed when I worked in there," he adds. Then pauses, his eyebrows lifting, before he rubs a hand over his forehead. "The fridge."

"The fridge?" the vet repeats, confused.

"There's an old fridge in the basement. It's not connected to anything, but it has insulation on the back," John explains. "It's the only place I can think of, where she may have gotten any of this sort of stuff," he turns to Lise. "I'm sorry."

"It's fine," she shakes her head. "I didn't think she'd start eating it, either. She hasn't done anything like that, before."

"Cats are weird," the vet declares. "They get bored, or stressed out, they try to compensate. I see the badge, so I'm assuming you work pretty long hours?"

"We both are," Lise nods.

"I suggest some enrichment. Scratching board, ball trap, stuff like that," he bops his head. "So, what we did, is we took the stuff out of her stomach, obviously. She'll have to stay here for at least a day. Depending on how she does, if she eats, has bowel movements, we might discharge her as soon as tomorrow. Provided she doesn't try to tear at her stitches. Again, cats."

"Sounds good," John declares.

"Can I see her?" Lise breathes. The vet furrows his brows, watches her intently.

"I don't recommend it," he hedges. "The sedation is wearing off. She won't be your pet, not like you know her."

"I understand that," Lise nods. "I just," she argues and draws another shuddering breath. "I just need to see her, just for a moment. Just to make sure that she's..." she trails off.

The vet watches her for another few beats, before he lets out a sigh.

"Alright," he mutters. "If you insist." With that, he stands, and motions for them to follow him. Lise quickly stands, just in case that he ends up changing his mind. He leads them further back at the clinic, down into the basement.

Moose is in a fenced off area, lying under a heat lamp. She has a cone around her neck, and a huge incision on her belly. Her tongue's lolling out and she stares ahead all cross-eyed, her chest heaving as strange sounds come out of the cat.

"Oh sweetie," Lise breathes and reaches out as soon as the vet opens the gate.

"Try not to touch her," he warns her. "She might bite. Cat bites are nasty."

Lise takes a shuddering breath and withdraws her hand. Curls both of them into fists. Seeing her like this, it breaks her heart. She looks so, miserable. Conked out, high of her rocker, but still miserable. Just seeing the incision, it makes her wince in sympathy. Poor Moose.

"Do you have anything of yours that you can leave behind? T-shirt, or blanket? A familiar smell would help a lot," the vet explains. Lise shifts.

"I have an overnight bag, it's in the car. I can bring in something, before we leave."

"Excellent," the man nods. He looks at the cat, tilts his head. "I know it looks bad," he tells her. "But she is doing well. She came off the ventilator fine. The IV she has is just to make up for the fluids she's lost, and give her some energy back."

"You're not going into the basement, ever again," Lise shakes her head at the cat and reaches out to gently touch her back, scratch her a little, just to let her know she's there. Moose makes a sound that sounds almost like a meow. "I know," Lise mutters softly. "I am so sorry, sweetie."

"Okay, I think it's enough for now," the vet declares. "Anything changes, we will call you," he tells her, clearly dismissing her as he goes to close the gate again. Lise reluctantly pulls her hand back and takes a step back.

At the car, she grabs her overnight bag, pulls out a shirt.

"Hey," John mutters and stops her, with a hand on her arm. "You think... Here," he says and holds out his jacket. Lise shifts and looks at it in silent question.

"Unless you think she doesn't need it," he shrugs, seeming self-conscious all of a sudden. Lise relaxes, and shakes her head.

"No," she replies. "No, I think she'll like having a reminder of you," she says. Takes his jacket and presses a quick kiss to his cheek, before she goes back inside. Hands her shirt and John's jacket over to one of the staff. Makes sure that they know to call her, as soon as anything changes, with Moose. Any time, even in the middle of the night.

When she gets back to the car, John is in the driver's seat, his phone in his hands.

"I just called Mei's Palace," he tells her. "We can pick up our food on the way."

"Can we stay at your place?" Lise asks as she buckles herself in. "We have to clean, anyway, and I think I'd feel better... All her things are at your house."

"Sure," he nods and turns the ignition. Lise closes her eyes as they pull into traffic. Allows herself to relax a little, and take a deep breath. Moose'll be fine. She'll pull through. She has to.

 

* * *

 

"Got a minute?"

Lise frowns down at the file on her desk, then forces herself to relax.

"Sure," she answers and puts her pen down. Turns her chair and looks up at McLeod. "What is it?"

"Your time in Financial," the man starts and shifts, clearly uncomfortable. Lise doesn't blame him. She doesn't make a it a secret, that she only tolerates him at work. His opinions grate on her, and she still hasn't forgiven him for the way he acted, during the Whyland thing. "You ever come across a guy name Wayne Undstrom?"

Lise furrows her brows, searching her memory, then slowly shakes her head no.

"Doesn't ring a bell, no," she tells him. Accepts the file McLeod hands her.

"What's this?" she asks, not at all happy with the heaviness of it.

"Bank statements," he replies. Swallows. "I know you're not on this, and you got your own cases. I just, this isn't, my thing. I can't make any sense of this," he shakes his head. Looks away, for a moment. "I'd, appreciate, your help," he finishes, with a quick glance at her.

Lise tries to hide her surprise.

McLeod doesn't ask her for help. She doesn't ask him for his. She goes to Szelagy, or John, or someone else. Unless they're working on something together, but even then McLeod and her have perfected a way of working with each other while limiting their exposure to each other's, antics. She knows he's not a fan of hers, knows that he is still upset, about her getting NIS recommendation over him. And she is still pissed off with him, for commenting on her sex life in front of everyone.

"When do you need it?" she asks carefully. She has two supplemental reports to finish, and there's some video surveillance footage she wanted to go over again, to make sure she didn't miss anything.

"It's not urgent," McLeod shakes his head.

"I'll see what I can do," Lise nods, resigning herself to spending a couple of hours looking over bank statements yet again. And here she thought she was finally out of Financial.

"Thanks," the older man nods. Sinks into his own chair, and grabs his coffee as he turns towards his computer. Lise purses her lips and tosses the file onto the growing pile on her desk as she turns her own chair around.

"Hey, Delorme?"

She raises her eyebrows and looks over at McLeod over her shoulder. The man seems, uncomfortable.

"I'm sorry," he says, and for a moment, she thinks Hell has certainly frozen over. "About," he adds and gestures awkwardly, towards her middle.

"Sorry?" she asks and turns towards him, confused. McLeod reaches up, touches the back of his neck. His eyes dart away and she watches him swallow.

"I asked Dyson, for someone to check out the trapper's cabin with, last month. She told me I wasn't to take you. Was pretty adamant about it, too."

Lise's brows furrow, and then realization dawns on her. Right. A month ago, she'd asked Dyson for administrative duty. Spent two days at her desk, before she'd gone back to her DS, to tell her it was a false alarm, that she'd be able to go back into the field.

A female cop gets benched, people notice. Especially when it happens seemingly without reason. She hadn't had any complaints against her, no run-ins with lawyers or anything of the sort. No shouting match in Dyson's office, no head-butting with any of the brass.

First day, she'd played it off, saying she was just getting caught up on paperwork. But she knows she'd been, antsy. And Lise knows how people at the precinct like to gossip. She knows they'd been watching her, and even Lise has to admit that John's hovering would have been hard to miss, even when he'd tried to be subtle about it.

"I didn't know that," she mutters. Looks for something else to say. If she's honest, she's kind of surprised. That he didn't rub it in her face, didn't ask her outright about it. Didn't make a stupid comment. That would have been like McLeod. Staying silent, when he probably thought a female cop was protecting another woman on the force, that's... new. McLeod's idea of sexism, and him not going off about it? That's practically unheard of.

"Wasn't a big deal," he shrugs.

Lise swallows. So, he knows. Not everything, of course not. Dyson wouldn't have told him why she put her on admin. But it's not that hard, to figure it out, especially because she hadn't had a visible injury, or thought to make up such a story, to cover her ass.

"Listen," she starts and watches him shake his head.

"It's fine," he replies. Hesitates. "I just, I wanted to let you know..." he trails off, brows creasing.

Lise swallows, then gives a slow nod.

"Thank you," she mutters. Watches, as he nods, as well, then slowly turns back to his computer. She does the same. Frowns, at her screen, before she shakes her head and takes out her cell phone.

_Question: Did you tell McLeod we're trying?_

Before she can think better of it, she hits send. Waits, for a moment, to see if John replies, but when her cell phone sceen goes black, she puts it down again.

She's finished with her first report, when the soft chime from her phone catches her attention. She takes it, her lips curling into a smile when she sees John's name on her screen. Moves to pull up the message.

_No. He was asking about us a while back. Was pretty awkward about it and kept hinting in that direction. Didn't tell him, though._

Lise leans back in her chair and pauses, for a moment, trying to figure out what to type.

_It's fine, I was just wondering._

She sends the message, then decides to follow it up with another.

_You want to go out tonight? I'm feeling like Italian._

This time, he replies almost immediately.

_I can be persuaded. For real Italian, or Algonquin Bay's take on it?_

Lise shakes her head with a soft chuckle.

_Algonquin Bay's version is fine. Je t'aime xoxo_

With that, she sets her phone down, and decides that she might as well have a look at what McLeod dumped in her lap.

 

* * *

 

"Ah, tabarnak," she curses as she pushes the door open, and almost falls on her face when she trips over the boots laying there. As much as she loves it when Kelly visits, she's not happy about the inevitable chaos that the younger woman tends to leave in her wake.

"-me talk!"

"I am the one talking right now!"

Lise lifts her head, shocked by the volume that greets her. She's rarely heard John raise his voice, and she's never heard him yell at his daughter. Moose trots down the hallways with a soft meow and slips into Kelly's room, seeking refuge from the noise. Lise doesn't blame the cat.

"Hey," she greets the two humans when she walks down the hallway and into the living space. Kelly's standing there, her arms crossed tightly over her chest. She looks over and Lise almost takes a step back, at the younger woman's glare.

"Am I, interrupting?" she inquires carefully as she sets down the groceries she's went to pick up. Thinks, about approaching John, hugging him, but his hands are on his hips and he's radiating anger, right now.

"No." - "Yes."

"Ah, one of those arguments," Lise nods. She'd only gone out to grab some fresh groceries. If she'd known that the two would fly off the handle, with each other, she would have stayed home.

"Kelly, go to your room," John tells his daughter, an edge still to his voice.

"I am twenty-two years old!" the young woman yells in reply. "You're not sending me to my room!"

"Hey," Lise calls out. "Whatever you two," she gestures between them, "are currently fighting over, this isn't cute."

She used to curse, under her breath, when her parents yelled at her and made her do something she didn't want to. Lise would mutter to herself, just low enough for them to be unable to hear what exactly it was she was saying, and storm from the room.

Kelly does that, now. She mutters something that sounds suspicously like a French curse as she storms past Lise.

She manages not to flinch when the door to the house bangs shut behind her.

"Let her go," Lise shakes her head when Cardinal starts moving. "Let her take a walk, cool off," she adds at his look and takes a step aside, to block his path. He glares at her and she crosses her arms. Raises an eyebrow at him in wordless challenge.

Go ahead. Yell at me. I dare you.

John blinks. Then he lets out a ragged breath and deflates, visibly.

"I'm sorry," he apologizes to her. Lise shifts and takes a step towards him. He lifts his arms and she moves in, pressing herself against him.

"You okay?" she asks as she looks up at him. He swallows thickly and then shakes his head no. Lets go of her with a soft sigh.

"No," John mutters and sinks down onto his couch. Rubs his hand over his eyes and looks up at her.

"I'm gonna be a grand-dad."

Lise feels like someone's just pulled out the floor from under her.

"What?" she breathes. Slowly walks over to the armchair and sinks down onto its arm, her mind reeling with the news. "Kelly's pregnant?"

"Yeah," John nods. Looks away and leans back against the backrest of his couch. Rubs his hand over his beard.

"Shit," he mutters.

"That's what you two were fighting about," Lise realizes. John's expression darkens and he nods grimly.

"Yeah," he confirms. "I mean, I knew there had to be a reason, for her to just, drop by like this. She doesn't do that, you know? It's like I have to drag her here, have to beg her to come home."

Lise decides not to point out to him, how he himself always keeps on saying that Toronto is Kelly's home. It doesn't strike her as a great moment to bring it up, and really, it doesn't matter. He is right. His daughter rarely comes by, and usually, she has a reason. It's a birthday, or Christmas, or something else is going on that means she wants to be around her dad.

"That does, complicate, matters," Lise sighs. Looks out through the window, thinking she might catch a glimpse of Kelly. She hasn't heard a car start, so she either went off on foot, or she's still hanging around the house. For her sake, Lise hopes that she's alright. Having your father blow a fuse to the news of your pregnancy... She doesn't want to imagine, how that must have felt like.

"Damn Noah," John shakes his head. "I knew that kid wasn't up to any good."

Lise tries to get the grin back under control, before he spots it. She shouldn't be laughing, but honestly, Noah hadn't been so bad. Kind of cute, in a boyish sort of way. On his way to becoming a lawyer.

"Must be tough," she remarks. John gives her a questioning look, and Lise lets a sigh escape her. "I mean, breaking up with your boyfriend, and then finding out you're pregnant a couple weeks later..." she shrugs.

He stares at her.

"They've broken up?" he asks and Lise feels her eyes widen.

"She didn't tell you?" she asks stupidly. Watches, as he slowly shakes his head. "Kelly told me, like, a month ago, when we were talking on the phone. Something about him just being too... immature? Not being what she was looking for, in a guy, anyway. So she broke it off."

"Great," he remarks, sarcasm spilling from his voice. "First she doesn't tell me about breaking up with her boyfriend, then she denies being pregnant."

"Wait," Lise frowns. "Hold up a second," she says, her mind whirling as she tries to follow. "What do you mean, she denied being pregnant?"

John gives her a look that screams 'Seriously?' and Lise shakes her head, not understanding. She feels like she is missing something crucial here, some key piece of evidence that is staring her right in the face.

"Then how do you know she is?" she asks and John lets out a scoff. Pulls a pregnancy test from his jacket and tosses it onto the table.

"That was in her bathroom."

She feels like someone's poured ice water over her head. Lise stares, at the pregnancy test, so familiar. She buys the same brand. Has used them like, three times, now. Once, months ago, when she'd asked Dyson to put her on administrative duty. She'd bought a test on her way to work that day and taken it, once she got home. It had been negative, and another two days later, her doctor had confirmed it. Her cycle'd gotten screwed up, the hours she'd worked, plus two flights down to Toronto and back messing with her body.

There's been two more times, since then. Those times, she did the tests first, before talking to Dyson. Which had proven to be unnecessary in both cases, the tests remaining negative. And the most recent one, of course. Lise almost forgot about that one. So it's been four times, not three.

"-found it, on the sink. I confronted her, but she denied it. Said she wasn't pregnant, that I was being crazy-"

"In her bathroom," Lise repeats and looks up.

John rolls his eyes.

"Yes, Lise. I went in there, to check the hot water, and it was just, sitting there. She didn't even try to hide it. I don't know why she then went and lied about it when I asked, but-"

"She didn't," Lise whispers.

"Huh?"

Her heart's hammering in her chest.

"That's not, not Kelly's test."

"Look, I didn't want to believe it-"

"John," she cuts off his retort. Her voice is low, soft, barely a whisper. He pauses. Looks at her, his mouth still open. Closes it slowly, and swallows.

"What?" he breathes and Lise closes her eyes.

"She was taking a shower upstairs. I had to pee so badly, so I went and used her bathroom."

"Lise."

"Arsenault called me, I had to grab my notes. I completely forgot, and then I remembered I'd had to go, to pick up groceries for dinner..." she trails off. Slowly raises her eyes again. "I'm sorry."

"This is yours?"

Lise swallows thickly. Then nods.

"Yes," she breathes. Feels the tears spill from her eyes and reaches up to press her hand over her mouth as he stands and pulls her up against him. She feels John's arms around her, holding her to him, she lets out a shuddering breath.

"I'm so sorry," she sniffles as she wraps her arms around his neck.

"It's okay," he mutters and she feels his hand on the back of her head, cradling it gently as his thumb strokes over her hair. Lise closes her eyes and holds onto him tightly.

"I meant to tell you later," she whispers. His hold on her loosens and he leans back a little. There are tears in his eyes and Lise reaches up to gently stroke his cheeks with the pads of her thumbs.

"This is really yours," he repeats, wonder in his voice, and Lise lets out a soft laugh. Nods, once.

"Yes," she confirms. "It's ours. And it is positive."

"We're having a," he starts and pauses when her eyes widen. "Fetus," he finishes, and Lise cannot help but laugh at the word.

"We'll talk about, using the b-word, okay? After I've had an ultrasound and official confirmation," she murmurs and leans up to brush her lips over his.

"Okay," John sighs into her mouth and Lise closes her eyes, just basking in the happy, giddy feeling that's coursing through her. A couple of hours ago, she'd been absolutely shocked when the second line had shown up on the test. She hadn't thought it was going to, had honestly believed that, out of the four times she has tested, this time was the least likely to result in a positive. She'd been wrong.

"She's going to hate me," Lise mutters, when she thinks of Kelly.

"Nah," John shakes his head. "She'll be mad, but she can be mad at me," he says. "I think she'll be happy."

"Yes?" Lise asks and looks up at him. They haven't talked to Kelly, about this. Lise thinks that she might have had her suspicions, but they never took the time to sit down and ask her how she felt, about this. About potentially getting a younger sibling. One that she could be the mother of, with their difference in age.

"Yeah," he nods. Leans in to kiss her forehead and Lise closes her eyes for a moment. It hasn't sunken in, yet. It doesn't feel, real. She needs to call her GYN, make an appointment, get an ultrasound and a blood test. Somehow, Lise thinks that she'll only really start believing that this is happening when she sees proof. The kind you get from an ultrasound image. Right now, this all feels too much like a dream. One she was starting to think wasn't going to come true.

"I love you," John whispers and Lise lets out a soft sigh.

"Love you, too," she replies and feels his hold tighten just a little bit.

_fin._

**Author's Note:**

> In case you want a picture of Moose, [I have one on my tumblr](http://cometocourtyou.tumblr.com/post/172736580222). Or you can just google 'somali brown cat'. They are one very beautiful breed.


End file.
